


Even if my heart should break

by ladylapislazuli



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, M/M, Married Couple, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24305506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylapislazuli/pseuds/ladylapislazuli
Summary: “Stop that. Let me,” Felix snaps.He takes up the washcloth. Wets it, but when he sets it to Dimitri’s skin it isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. He scrubs, but his grip is weak, and it doesn’t do much good.Felix’s hand is shaking.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 26
Kudos: 272





	Even if my heart should break

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: this fic contains references to injury (and briefly mentions potential-but-not-actual loss of limb).
> 
> big shout out to the anon on my CC for this prompt: "maybe some wound tending? post battle shenanigans? mutual grooming? BATH TIME?". cheers, legend!

Felix doesn’t like to think of himself as the worrying sort. Sometimes, though, it’s hard not to be.

“Come upstairs,” he barks.

Dimitri jerks guiltily from his place on the infirmary bench. He didn’t notice Felix come in, most likely - too distracted by pretending not to be in pain as the healer finished patching him up.

“Ah, Felix,” he greets weakly. Tries for a smile, but it fades when Felix fixes him with a firm glare.

The healer is tidying her things. Bowing as she makes to leave the two of them alone.

Felix manages a brisk, “Thank you,” as she passes him by.

“Of course, your Highness.”

Felix doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being called that. It throws him momentarily, as it always does. He rallies.

“Come on, then,” he says to Dimitri.

Dimitri follows him. More than a little sheepish, trailing Felix through the corridors and up the stairs to their chambers like a chastened puppy-dog. Keeping up a constant stream of, “Really, Felix, the injury was minor, I am perfectly all right.”

He doesn’t fool Felix. Felix _knows_ what happened. He heard it from Dedue, and Dedue isn’t one to mince words.

Besides, though the healers have cleaned him up a little, Dimitri is still covered in blood.

“Get inside,” Felix snarls as he throws open the door to their chambers. Dimitri gives him a look that indicates the command is unnecessary – he is, after all, following obligingly - but he goes without a word.

Wise choice. He’s learning.

Felix stalks into the adjoining washroom. The servants have already prepared a bath, and he rolls up his sleeves and tests the water with his hand. Still plenty warm, and a good thing too. Dimitri is filthy.

He doesn’t need to instruct Dimitri on what to do next. Just fixes him with an expectant look, and with a heavy sigh (Dimitri has _no business_ sighing like that after what he’s done), Dimitri undresses and climbs into the tub.

It’s another thing Felix doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to - Dimitri disrobing in front of him. Slightly flushed, admittedly, and with his eyes averted, but stripping down without question. The intimacy of it strikes a chord deep in Felix’s chest. Renders him still and silent, just watching as Dimitri steps into the tub and sinks slowly into the water.

He is careful to keep his left arm out of the tub. Even after the healers have seen to him, it is still bandaged, and Dimitri balances it on the rim. If Felix hears correctly, Dimitri is lucky to still _have_ that arm.

That thought snaps Felix out of the trance he’s fallen into. He whirls about the room, grabbing a washcloth and a comb and various grooming necessities, muttering all the while.

“Unbelievable. _Unbelievable_.”

Dimitri doesn’t reply. Splashes himself one-handed, which is hardly an efficient way to rid himself of sweat and dirt and blood.

“Stop that. Let me,” Felix snaps.

He takes up the washcloth. Wets it, but when he sets it to Dimitri’s skin it isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. He scrubs, but his grip is weak, and it doesn’t do much good.

Felix’s hand is shaking.

“Felix…”

“Don’t,” Felix snaps, but it comes out more vulnerable than he means it to. He compensates by tightening his grip through sheer force of will and rubbing roughly at a spot on Dimitri’s right shoulder. Refusing to look up, even when he can see Dimitri angling his head in an attempt to catch his eye.

“Felix,” Dimitri says again. “My love.”

Felix’s hand stills. He squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment, as his heart thuds almost painfully in his chest. Then he resumes his scrubbing without further acknowledgment that Dimitri has spoken at all.

Dimitri knows him too well. Felix hates it, sometimes, because Dimitri stretches his bandaged arm across the tub to catch Felix’s hand in his own, his wedding band glinting. It is a simple ring. An unadorned band of gold usually hidden by Dimitri’s gloves. New, and Felix’s, and the sight of it still stuns him.

“I am sorry I worried you,” Dimitri murmurs. His right hand is submerged, but he pulls it from the water to touch it, still dripping, to Felix’s face. He rubs his thumb across Felix’s cheekbone, his palm resting light against the side of Felix’s head, probably trying to avoid getting the rest of him wet too.

Felix doesn’t mean to soften. Doesn’t mean to lean into the touch, his eyes flickering up to meet Dimitri’s searching gaze. He doesn’t mean to go still, and docile, and easy, just because Dimitri is looking at him like that.

Felix remembers himself a moment later. Swats Dimitri’s hand away with a scowl, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. He’s angry. He has every _right_ to be angry.

“You’re covered in grime. Take your eye patch off and let your hair down,” Felix orders. Dimitri complies, trying to hide his wince as he stretches his left arm up towards his head, and Felix quickly realises his mistake. “No, stop that. Let me.”

Somehow, it is even more intimate than watching Dimitri undress. Felix removes his eye patch and lets Dimitri’s hair out for him. Then, after another pointed look, Dimitri ducks his head under the water to get his hair wet. Tips his head back as Felix, stubbornly mute, washes his hair _for_ him.

It’s hard to stay angry with Dimitri like this. Warm and close, his skin flushed from the heat of the water. Felix’s fingers in his hair, combing through its strands and brushing against Dimitri’s wet skin. Dimitri’s head is tipped back, his throat bare, trusting Felix so completely that it’s hard to cling on to anger with the treacherous softness slowly overwhelming Felix’s heart. Handsome, vulnerable, maddening Dimitri. Felix’s Dimitri.

Felix gives himself a moment, just a moment. Strokes his fingers down Dimitri’s throat, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. Touching him, for no reason at all other than that Felix wants to touch.

“You’re an idiot,” Felix says when he is able. Looks at the bandages again to remind himself exactly of what he _should_ be feeling.

Dimitri should be more careful with those bandages. Perched on the edge as they are, they’re already dangerously close to getting wet. It wouldn’t be catastrophic if they did – the healers have dealt with the worst of the damage – but it would be stupid, and Felix can’t cope with any more stupidity.

A month. They’ve been married _one month_ , and Dimitri’s already nearly gotten himself killed.

The bottle of hair product Felix is reaching for slips from his fingers. Crashes to the floor, spilling thick goo across the tiles before Felix manages to right it, cursing under his breath.

“Felix?”

Dimitri is looking at him again. Utterly naked before him, and yet it’s Felix who feels exposed and raw.

“I’m going with you next time. I don’t know how you turned a diplomatic outing into a demonic beast hunt. Clearly I can’t trust you enough to let you out of my sight.” It’s meant to be a reprimand. Meant to be biting and sarcastic. But Felix has as much control over his voice as he does his fingers, and it wavers too much to be convincing.

Dimitri is quiet. Watching Felix as he tries, in a haphazard way, to clean the goo off the floor with nothing but a handtowel and his foot.

“I am all right, Felix. I am not hurt.”

“You _were_.”

“I am all right now,” Dimitri amends.

Felix’s head snaps up. Dimitri is trying to smile at him, but it only serves to make Felix’s anger flare. “You’re _reckless_. It’s taken us this long to get our act together and you-”

Felix cuts himself off. Not sure what’s about to come out next, and not sure he wants to hear it, whatever it is. Dimitri’s mouth opens, but Felix doesn’t want to hear what he has to say either.

“Just – finish your bath,” he snaps, and stalks out of the bathroom.

He regrets it a moment later. Worries, then gets angry at himself for worrying. He wonders if Dimitri _can_ wash himself off without help, but Felix certainly isn’t going back in there. He ends up standing by the window with his arms folded across his chest, torn between fuming and thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong.

He's still worrying. Worrying, even though it’s a useless pastime. Even though he should know better.

Dimitri comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wrapped in a robe he’s tried and failed to secure properly around his waist. He’s a mess – with his left arm bandaged, he hasn’t even tried to fit it into its sleeve, so the robe is barely keeping place on his other shoulder. It’s gaping open, entirely too much of his chest on display, and threatening to fall off at any moment.

It's not a provocative look. It is, if anything, slightly silly. The empty sleeve trails uselessly behind him, and Dimitri’s doing something odd with his shoulders in an attempt to hold the robe in place.

Felix still has to force himself to look away.

For a moment, they are silent. Felix at the window, Dimitri dripping on the carpet. Then Dimitri takes a deep breath. “I _was_ hurt. My arm and shoulder, with some bruising on my ribs.”

Felix considers this. Nods, brisk.

“I forgot myself in the heat of battle,” Dimitri admits. “I did not wish to worry you when I returned, but I can see I have already done so. It was foolish of me to think to conceal it from you in the first place. I…” Another breath. “My pride was wounded.”

There is something painful about the way Dimitri says it. Something frustrated – not with Felix, but with himself. It is the truth, though, and something eases in Felix’s chest.

Dimitri’s voice lowers. Straddling the line between shyness and embarrassing sincerity as he says, “I have no intention of leaving you so soon, my dearest.”

Felix closes his eyes, his heart racing ahead of him. He _hates_ it, sometimes - hates that a few words from Dimitri rob him of his sharp edges. That after all his long years of hating and fighting, Felix is so easily won.

Dimitri, sensing a change in Felix’s demeanour, tests his luck. Closes the distance and wraps his good arm around Felix, brushing a kiss to Felix’s temple when he receives no objection.

Dimitri isn’t a manipulative man. Felix knows for a fact that Dimitri hasn’t figured it out yet – hasn’t figured _Felix_ out yet. Doesn’t understand the power he holds over Felix, how completely he disarms him, just by being himself. Felix has always felt too much for Dimitri. It’s maddening, and irrational, and it hasn’t always been pretty.

He loves Dimitri so much he doesn’t know what to do with it. Even now, with Dimitri’s arm wrapped around him, matching wedding rings on their fingers.

“As soon as those bandages come off, I’ll see you at the sparring grounds,” Felix tells him. Not his most convincing threat, but Dimitri doesn’t huff a laugh, as he usually does.

Instead he takes Felix’s hand again – still trembling. Felix hadn’t noticed. Dimitri tips his head, asking silently for Felix to meet his gaze, and when Felix won’t he presses a kiss to Felix’s knuckles.

“Forgive me, Felix,” he murmurs. “I was foolish.”

That he was. Still is, dripping all over himself and the carpet beneath their feet because he’s done a bad job of drying his hair one-handed.

Felix’s heart swells. “You’re impossible.”

It’s not what he really wants to say. Not what he means. Some things don’t come naturally to Felix.

Dimitri is a fool, but Felix is much the same.

He pulls back to tug Dimitri’s robe more firmly across his good shoulder, adjusting the belt around his waist. Dimitri is already cooling after his bath. No use in letting him get cold. It’s a practical, necessary thing to do.

Less so when Felix’s hands linger. When he traces around to Dimitri’s lower back, settling his hands in the curve of Dimitri’s spine. No excuse, this time, of anything remotely practical.

Being with Dimitri, touching him like this, is still so new. New, and yet utterly familiar. Right.

His husband. Felix doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get used to any of this. How he’s going to stop his pathetic, useless worrying, because he _knows_ the man he married. He knows what Dimitri’s like, knows him better than anyone. Can’t imagine being without him.

Felix doesn’t say as much. Doesn’t need to, with the lingering trembling of his hands. But he leans up for a kiss, and somehow, he thinks Dimitri understands.

**Author's Note:**

> ayyo i'm chillin on twitter @ladylapisxx
> 
> i am all about the ye olde songs for these two. title comes from english translation of a line from schumann's beautiful lieder, "Er, der Herrlichste von allen"
> 
> additional note: as the king's husband felix is now prince felix, duke of fraldarius and that is what i'm rollin with


End file.
